Exciting News

A month or so ago I decided that I would become more public about our struggle with infertility. I shared on this blog, linked it to my twitter (because no one that I still keep up with is even on twitter), and let out the secret. We were infertile. April 5th, I peed on the 10,000th home pregnancy test just for the heck of it and an extra line showed up. Of course I didn’t believe it… so since it was my last pregnancy test in the house, I ran to walmart (at 10:30 pm) and bought 4 more tests of different brands, cause there’s no way I could be pregnant. (Even after having taken Clomid and doing everything right…) So I bought the 4 tests, a half-gallon of rocky road ice cream and drove myself back home. All the way praying. I beat my husband home, but just barely. He pulled in right behind me. I raced into the house, snuck to the bathroom with the new tests, stashed the first one under the sink, just in case (I didn’t want him to find it before I was sure), peed in the lovely cup and since my hubs had just gotten home, he was in a hurry to used the bathroom too… so I snuck out of the bathroom with my cup of pee (gross, I know, don’t judge) and I did the two more tests over the (empty) kitchen sink. (even more gross… Don’t worry, I bleached it all after. Stop judging me.) Both of the tests immediately were positive. So there was no way that all three tests, in three different brands, were all wrong. As I stood there, staring at those little pink lines, pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, I debated telling my hubs or waiting till easter or his birthday. About 15 minutes later, I decided that I wasn’t going to keep it a secret. I was so anxious. I think I was like…”So…. I took a pregnancy test… and it’s positive…all three of them…” and then I showed him my little pile of tests. He was excited of course.

For the next week, I lived in a state of constant panic attack. Every single little twinge and cramp would cause me to burst into tears of fear. I was so afraid to lose this baby. I still am, even today after having told our families. I fear. They don’t tell you that pregnancy after a loss, pregnancy after infertility, is this scary. But I trust Him. He is faithful.

I am six weeks. I know, way earlier than most people share their pregnancies, especially after a loss. But I trust God. And I trust my family and friends. Even if the unimaginable, unspeakable were to happen in the coming weeks, I trust that my family and friends will be supportive.

I will carry this baby to term. My body knows what to do. God has given me this miracle. He has answered my prayers. He is good. I will have a healthy pregnancy. I will have a healthy baby.

Waiting Sucks

Another month came and went, and still not even an evaporation line on the pregnancy test to instill the least bit of hope- believe me, I took the test out of the trash can multiple times, well past the designated expiration, just to see if maybe I missed the faintest of lines. If I could will a pink line to show up, I would have a soccer team of children. I studied that window from every angle in every light for wayy too long to be considered a sane person. …And don’t even get me started on symptom spotting!… I cycled between “definitely pregnant” to “definitely crazy” more times than I am willing to admit.

People don’t talk about the pain that comes with the wait. People don’t talk about how each time you test, even when it is entirely too early to have a positive pregnancy test, your heart is broken. And we do it to ourselves. We test, even when we know there is no way in the world that the test will be positive, and then we cry when it is negative. Infertility brings about a new level of insanity.

Last month, for the first time ever, I got a positive OPK. I was so excited. Thrilled. Hopeful. Finally, my body was doing what it is supposed to be doing, ovulating. Can’t get pregnant if you don’t ovulate. My OB did a progesterone blood test… I didn’t ovulate. It was a false positive. My hopes were dashed. I immediately spiraled. How could my body be so cruel?How could life be so cruel? How could hope be so cruel? How could God be so cruel? This journey has pushed, pressed, beat down, and assaulted everything that I ever have believed to be true about God. Another month came and went without the fulfillment of God’s promise.

This month I took my first cycle of Clomid. With it brought new emotions, new symptoms, a new level of crazy. I turned an OPK. Tomorrow I go for the blood work to see if I actually ovulated. I am terrified to have hope. I am terrified to even say I care. More than anything I want to say “Screw you, ovaries; screw you, hope; I don’t care about you.” Not hoping should soften the blow when inevitably fertility spits in my face, right? But. I. Can’t. Without hope, I have nothing.

“Blessed is she who believed that God would fulfill His promise to her.” (Luke 1:45)

“Blessed [is she] who mourns, [she] will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)

“Let us holdfast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is Faithful.” (Hebrews 10:23)

These two weeks, the longest two weeks of my life. I go through them every month. Each month brings with it another trip through all of the stages of grief. Denial. Bargaining. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. Every month. Then we go through it again the next month.

Everyday is a battle to believe that God is good. Everyday is a struggle to trust in His goodness. Everyday is a fight to lift my eyes, through the tears, to He who my help comes from.

At the end of the day, I know that Hope is my Anchor and Truth is my Keel.

Intentions and reflections

I started this blog not long before I got married to my Mister. It was going to document our life as a growing family. I was going to post about our pregnancies, babies, kids, and eventually about homeschooling and taking care of a tiny farm with chickens and veggies. I had big dreams for my little family and was thrilled to get to be a wife and mom. I had always wanted to be a mom. If you had told me then that I would sit here, over a year later, childless, with an empty womb, I would have laughed at you. But here I am. Empty arms. Broken heart. One baby in heaven. None on earth. I have to remind myself daily that God is still good. If you had told me before that I would question His goodness, I probably would have slapped you. If you had told me that I would struggle with infertility, I definitely would have told you to get lost as that was impossible for someone who had dreamed of being a mom and knew that God promised she would be a mother of many. But here I am.

And y’all, it sucks.

We haven’t been extremely public with this because it hurts. It’s hard. I don’t want to hear the “stop trying and it will happen” or the “just adopt, you’ll get pregnant then”. I don’t want to put the burden of knowing on those around me.

But I realized something this week. I am not alone. I mean, I knew that already, but I realized that there are other women out there who are hurting. Just like me. I realized that there are other women who search the interwebs, looking for comfort and hope, just like me. I realized that there are women in my town, in my church, in my community, who desperately want to just sit down with another broken hearted woman and have coffee. They want to have someone who understands, to laugh with, cry with, be angry with, and vent with. Just like me.

So, I am going to start this journey. I am going to have open hands. An open heart. And a willingness to be vulnerable about the biggest pain I have ever known.

So here it goes.